


Lucifer - The Spinoff

by arby2236



Series: Deckerstar Chronicles [8]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Help!, Maybe a dick joke but that's it, No Smut?, Other, The guy who kidnapped me wrote this, What no porn?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-04
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:16:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29840715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arby2236/pseuds/arby2236
Summary: With the series Lucifer finally winding down, Netflix searches for a way to extend the franchise.  Which character are they going to build it around?
Relationships: Amenadiel & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Chloe Decker & Lucifer Morningstar, God & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), God and just about everybody, Mazikeen & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Michael & Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV)
Series: Deckerstar Chronicles [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2182302
Comments: 9
Kudos: 15





	1. The Pitch

Jack Scaplitt picked up the phone. “Mr. Scaplitt, the people from _Lucifer_ are here,” came the voice over the intercom.

“Bring them in.”

Jack Scaplitt wasn’t happy. Oh, he should be. He was the Big Swinging Dick at Netflix: as director of programming, his keen eye for hits had brought the company hundreds of millions of dollars, and a compensation package for him that was larger than the GDP of a small South American country.

He was not happy because of the sitdown he’d had with Legal yesterday. Legal had been informed by Accounting that the company had paid enough in settlements of sexual harassment claims against Scaplitt to fund an invasion of that same small South American country. Being a BSD only went so far, he learned. Down came the sign above his office, “Entering a Hostile Work Environment.” Gone was his “elbow test” for hiring secretaries, where he would have them put their hands behind their necks, stick their elbows out, and approach a file cabinet; if their elbows touched first, they wouldn’t be hired. Gone was the portion of the classified ads he’d run for the secretarial position which included the phrase, “Prior experience as Playboy Playmate preferred.” 

But most distressingly, gone was his former secretary Sara, sweet, lovely Sara, whose visage likely appeared in the dictionary next to the definition of “voluptuous,” replaced by Mrs. – not Ms., Mrs. – Spencer, every one of whose 57 wretched years shuffling across this mortal coil was etched like tree rings on her dreary face. #MeToo had become #YouTooFella.

So Jack Scaplitt was scowling when the people from _Lucifer_ were led into his office. “Bill Anderson,” said the one, extending his hand. He was in his late 40’s, overweight and prematurely balding. The woman was in her 40’s, not particularly attractive, but looked like Charlize Theron in comparison to the dowdy Mrs. Spencer. “Jordy Zuchowski, but you can call me Jordy,” she said. _Fucking A I will_ , thought Scaplitt, shaking both their hands in turn. Scaplitt sat back in his chair, the other two took chairs on the opposite side of the magnificent oak desk.

“So 5B is finally coming out?” said Scaplitt, with a tone of exasperation. “What’s it been, three years since 5A? What the fuck took so long? I mean, that fan base is just nuts. Had a bunch of them write in threatening to set themselves on fire in front of Netflix headquarters if it didn’t come out soon.”

Jordy had apparently decided to study the carpet. “Well, we ran into a bunch of problems,” Anderson said sheepishly.

“Like what?”

“We had to completely reshoot all the CGI scenes. Turns out the tech people screwed up, and every time Lucifer showed his Devil face, it had cat whiskers.”

_“What_?”

Jordy finally looked up. “We tried to recoup some of our costs by pitching Purina on a deal to use it as their new advertising logo, but they told us it wasn’t likely to appeal to their target demographic. Frankly, I think an ad with Satan putting down a bowl of cat food and calling, ‘Here, kitty kitty,’ would have been killer, but I guess that’s why I’m not in advertising.”

Anderson chimed in. “And we also had a devil of a time –” he chortled, but stopped when Scaplitt scowled at him “— finding someone to do the language dubbing into Panjibua.”

“Pan… what?”

“Panjibua,” said Anderson. “It’s a language spoken by the Oqway, a remote tribe in New Guinea, but they got television last year, so we had to do that translation as well.”

“Right…” said Scaplitt. He remembered a recent memo he’d seen saying that the Oqway was one of the fastest-growing groups of Netflix subscribers.

“Plus,” Jordy said, “the French sabotaged us in their dubbing. The guy who they initially hired to do it apparently hated Americans. We had this one scene, just a lovely scene with Chloe and Lucifer sitting at the piano, and they’re staring into each other’s eyes, and Lucifer says, ‘Chloe, I love you and I always will.’ Except in the French translation, it comes out, ‘How about you suck on my meat torpedo?’ Fortunately, we caught it, but we had to redo all that, too.”

Scaplitt shook his head. “Anyway, so we’re finally ready to go?” The two others nodded. “We going to get some real sex?”

Jordy and Anderson looked at each other.

“Aw, come on. That sex scene with them in 5A, Christ, I’ve seen more skin in a Hallmark movie. I mean, look at that series _Normal People_. They showed the guy’s cock, for God’s sake.”

“Yeah, but that’s why the show was called _Normal People_ and not _People with Big Cocks_ ,” said Anderson. “We’ve been building up Lucifer’s dick so much for the past five years, we do a full frontal and he doesn’t have a python hanging between his legs, people are going to be disappointed. I haven’t asked him what kind of package he’s got, but I’m pretty sure it’s not going to fulfill expectations. Like one of the brothers in the writing room told me last week, ‘What’s ten inches long and white? Nothing.’”

Jordy leaned forward. “But anyway, what we really wanted to talk to you about was an idea we had. We’ll be coming out with 5B next week, and 6 like a month later. We actually could have come out with 6 before 5B, but that would have screwed things up pretty bad. I mean, explaining why Dan’s not in 6 when you don’t know that he died in 5B was going to cause problems.”

“Dan gets killed?” Scaplitt didn’t appear to be disturbed by the prospect.

“Yeah, it’s like the Yiddish terms ‘schlemiel’ and ‘schimazel,’” Jordy said. “A schlemiel is a guy who spills his soup. A schimazel is the guy he spills it on. We could never decide whether Dan was a schlemiel or a schimazel, so we just decided to kill him. The death scene was great. It's hard for somebody to choke on pudding, but he sold it.”

Scaplitt nodded. “Alejandro’s a pro.”

Anderson jumped back in. “So anyway, we know that Season 6 is the end, because Ellis won’t go beyond that. We could do a Season 7 and pretend he’s in Hell again, but then German just spends another season moping around and bawling her eyes out. Poor woman already cried enough in Season 4 to fill a bathtub.”

Jordy’s turn. “But the show’s still a hot property, so we decided to capitalize by – drum roll…”

“Doing a spin-off!” said the two in unison.

Scaplitt was taken aback at first, then became intrigued. “So what character would you use for the spinoff?”

“The first one we thought of was Linda, you know, with the show centered around therapy visits with her.”

Scaplitt snorted. “Sounds like Dr. Phil with tits.”

“Yes, but Dr. Phil’s tits might be bigger,” said Jordy. “Have you seen him lately? He’s really porked up. I swear to God, if he ever takes his shirt off, I’m going to use one of Maze’s blades to scoop my eyeballs out.”

“Speaking of Maze,” said Scaplitt. “What about her?”

“Yeah,” replied Anderson. “We thought about doing a game show where she’s the host, and the object is to be the first contestant to betray the others. Even figured on a name like ‘Backstabbers!’ But it didn’t market well. A bit too dark.”

“Ella?” said Scaplitt hesitantly, then shook his head. “No, that’s too much like _The Unbreakable Kimmy Schmidt_. Just so much of that saccharine shit you can take. By the end of Season 3, just watching that show could put you into a diabetic coma.”

“Right,” said Henderson. “And Amenadiel is at the other end of the spectrum. Only so much broodiness people want to see. And Trixie is out, what with Estevez’s new show on Disney. Charlotte’s dead. We even thought of bringing Pierce back and pairing him up with Decker, but that would be watched by three people, two of whom were vomiting in their own mouths.”

Scaplitt thought for a moment. “So who does that leave?” 

Anderson’s face slowly relaxed into a broad smile. “God.”

_“God?_ ”

Jordy took the baton. “Yes. We use him in 5B, but then he’s gone. So we’ve figured this thing out, Lucifer retired from Hell, so why can’t God retire from Heaven? He goes to live in this small town near Chicago, hijinks ensue.”

Scaplitt slowly nodded. “Well, I have to admit it’s got some possibilities.”

“Tell you what,” said Anderson. “We’ve got the first episode with God in 5B, where he does a family sitdown with everybody. How about we focus-group that, see what response we get?”

Scaplitt nodded this time. “Okay, I’ll greenlight a showing of the sitdown episode with what, you figure, thirty, forty people? Then take their temperature and see if this thing has legs.”

Jordy and Anderson stood up and shook hands with Scaplitt. 

Scaplitt paused. “One more thing. You don’t have to tell me how 6 ends, but… Lucifer doesn’t become a lumberjack, does he?”


	2. The Family Dinner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Netflix focus-groups Lucifer's Episode 5e9, "The Family Dinner," to determine the feasibility of a spinoff featuring God.

[ _Scene opens with people sitting at large dinner table. God is at the head on one side, a short woman with black hair in a bob is at the other end. Amenediel and Michael sit on one side, Lucifer and empty chair on other. Chloe enters room. Maze begins to pat her down._ ]

CHLOE: What’s up with this?

GOD: You already shot two of my sons, you think I’m going to take any chances?

[ _Maze completes patdown, looks at God with wicked grin._ ]

MAZE: I think I’m going to have to do a cavity search.

GOD: That won’t be necessary. Come sit down, Chloe. You can go, Maze.

MAZE: You’re going to let a human stay, but I have to go?

GOD: She’s part of this.

MAZE: If I had a soul, I’ll bet you’d let me stay.

[ _Lucifer turns to Maze._ ]

LUCIFER: If you promise not to betray me every Thursday, I’ll put in a good word for you on that.

[ _Maze storms out_ ]

[ _Michael leers at Chloe_ ]

MICHAEL: And we’re going to have so much fun, aren’t we?

CHLOE: If they give me back my gun, I can shoot you a bunch more times. [ _stage whisper to Lucifer_ ]: Who’s the woman at the end of the table?

LUCIFER: Oh, that’s just Azrael. She’s the Angel of Death. Why, does that make it too weird?

CHLOE: Of course not. I’m sitting at a dinner table with God, two angels, and the Devil. Why would including the Angel of Death make things weird? Jesus…

LUCIFER: No, he’s not going to be here. Had his own dinner to attend. Much better catered – all the bread and wine you’d want – but it didn’t turn out too well, from what I’m given to understand.

MICHAEL [ _turning to Amenadiel_ ]: So, Manny, you want to start things off with a little speech about how your God’s greatest warrior? No? Good choice, since you can’t even get it up. Your wings, I mean.

AMENADIEL [ _pounding fist on table_ ]: You want some more scars?!

LUCIFER: I vote for a tic-tac-toe board. Maybe we can make that into Game Night.

GOD: Okay, let’s stop talking about wing envy. I’m sure you all have some questions.

MICHAEL [ _points at Lucifer_ ]: Yeah, I want to know how gets away with killing Uriel. We’re not supposed to kill humans, and he kills _your son_?

GOD: Meh, Uriel was pretty much of a dick. That routine of his, “I can tell you’re going to have a tuna sandwich for lunch next Tuesday,” boy, did that get old in a hurry.

CHLOE: Well, yes, I have a question. What was this ‘placed in your path’ nonsense all about? And if I was placed in Lucifer’s path, why not just be done with it? I missed out on three years of great sex because of that.

LUCIFER: Although we’re making up for it quite nicely, I’d add. [ _winces as Chloe elbows him in the ribs_.]

MICHAEL: Well, you could have shortened it by a couple of weeks if you’d wanted some of this.

CHLOE: Oh, right. You, the 4-billion-year old virgin. You couldn’t handle this then, and you sure couldn’t handle it now.

LUCIFER [ _holds hands up, about nine inches apart_ ]: Trust me, Michael, we’re not _identical_ twins.

CHLOE: I had my doubts about you from the start, but after that scene at the coffee machine? If I’d put my hand in Lucifer’s pants after the spoon trick, I would’ve found a hard-on you could’ve cut diamonds with.

LUCIFER [ _looking at God_ ]: I’d like to know what this “placed in my path” bit was as well. How do you put someone in my path thirty-odd years before I even know what my path’s going to be? I was still the King of Hell when you sent Amenadiel down to ‘bless’ Penelope Decker, or whatever you call it. How did you know that I was going to retire to Los Angeles, and that a friend would be killed, and that the Detective would be assigned the case …

CHLOE: And how did you know I’d become a detective? I was on the verge of taking that role in the _Weaponizer_ series so I wouldn’t have creepy old guys coming up and asking me to show them my tits, and the only reason I didn’t -- [ _Chloe stands up and slams palm on table_ ] Wait! YOU KILLED MY FATHER SO ALL THIS WOULD HAPPEN?

AZRAEL: Nope. Nothing pre-planned about it, at least by the Big Guy. I would know.

GOD: What is it with you people? Yeah, I’m omniscient, and that’s cool, especially when it comes to betting on the Super Bowl. But you think even I have time to keep track of what’s happening to everybody down here? All these people running around, saying that it’s ‘God’s will’ that they’re broke or their mother died or they find out they have cancer. Stuff happens. Doesn’t mean I had anything to do with it.

LUCIFER: Oooh, let’s have a pity party for good old Dad. Try having people _blame_ you for every bad thing that happens.

AMENADIEL: But you _did_ have something to do with this. I was there. And talk about creepy! That was a tough one to explain.

CHLOE: Well, knowing Mom, you wouldn’t have been able to sell the virgin bit.

GOD: But that was just to show my son that there was something called free will. He chose to leave Hell. He chose to become a ‘civilian consultant,’ whatever that means.

CHLOE: What about me?

GOD: Oh, you had choices, too. In fact, you made some.

MICHAEL: You didn’t have to choose Lucifer. You could have chosen Pierce. You know, the guy you boned in the evidence room?

LUCIFER: WHAT??? Just two days ago we – you – [ _scene fades to dream-like sequence with front shot of Lucifer leaning against some file cabinets with ecstatic expression on face while guiding blonde head back and forth at waist level._ ] Which brings up the subject: just why did you find that overstuffed man-ham so attractive?

CHLOE: I don’t know, might have had something to do with you spending six months acting like you’d had a brain injury. Trixie showed more maturity than you did back then. And we’re not even going to talk about how I thought we really had something going after I was poisoned and you ghost me for two weeks and then you come back _married_? I don’t care whether you’re vulnerable or not, if we hadn’t been in the precinct house, I would have used you for target practice.

LUCIFER: Well, then I guess I would have gone back to hell. Like I did to get the formula so you wouldn’t die from the poison. Or don’t you know about that?

AMENADIEL: I certainly do. I wound up doing thirty days for assaulting those hospital security guards.

GOD: See? Everybody had choices. I may have shuffled the cards a certain way, but everybody got to play their hand as they wished. I think that answers all your questions, so let’s eat.

LUCIFER: Not really. This whole thing with being vulnerable around her. What’s the deal with that? Is it because I’m in love with her? That doesn’t work, because the time she shoots me, all I’m trying to do is get in her pants.

CHLOE: And it wasn’t because I was in love with him, either. At that point, I considered him an oversexed reptile. 

LUCIFER: And is it just that I lose my immortality, or do I lose my strength, too? One day I’m hoisting a three-hundred pound man with one hand, and the next I’m getting choked out by a woman with a fire-place poker.

CHLOE: Yeah, and about that. He’s supposed to be vulnerable around me, but last week Daniel shoots him and it’s a big nothingburger.

LUCIFER: For that matter, why is it that sometimes when I’m shot it knocks me out, and other times it doesn’t faze me? What is the difference?

AZRAEL: I’ve got one. How does this whole thing with Heaven and Hell and guilt work? I wind up taking Ted Bundy and John Wilkes Booth to heaven, but I have to cart some poor woman who feels bad because she stole a candy bar when she was twelve down to hell, to suffer eternal damnation. Is that a bug or a feature?

GOD: Well, let me try to explain –

CHLOE [ _throws napkin on table and stands up_ ]: Sorry, I’m outa here. You’re starting to sound like an insurance salesman. 

[ _Scene fades to black as Chloe stomps out_.]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think the real episode in Lucifer will be much different. As Eve said when Kinley asked her why she thought he was going to Hell, "Just a hunch."


	3. Green LIght

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Will God the Spinoff get a go from corporate? The Netflix gang looks at the numbers and discusses casting choices.

Bill Anderson and Jordy Zuchowski trudged into Jack Scaplitt’s office, followed by a third man with short hair, horn-rimmed glasses, and a navy blue suit with a white shirt and red tie. The latter was in stark contrast to the attire worn by the three others, which ran just above the lower boundary of business casual.

“Who’s the suit?” asked Scaplitt as the three sat down across from him. 

“Oh, this is Bradley Algerton,” responded Jordy. “He’s our numbers guy. Kid’s got a mind for figures like you wouldn’t believe.”

I _would_ believe it, thought Scaplitt. Algerton couldn’t have been older than late twenties, and looked like he was still a virgin. Probably was; babbling about television ratings and target demographics was guaranteed to make a pussy drier than Death Valley, Scaplitt reflected.

Scaplitt leaned back in his chair, pulled out a cigar, and lit it. Algerton’s facial expression couldn’t have been worse if Scaplitt had just pulled out his penis and started masturbating. “So I watched the Family Dinner episode,” said Scaplitt, exhaling and making sure to blow the smoke at Algerton. “What do the numbers tell us, Brad?”

Algerton reacted to the smoke drifting in his direction as if it were mustard gas. “I think we have a problem with Haysbert as God,” Jordy interjected.

“Yes,” Algerton said, trying to accomplish the feat of talking while holding his breath. “His Q score was only six.”

“ _Six_?” repeated Scaplitt. “Does Allstate know that?”

“Oh, in the Allstate commercials, he scores an eleven. Which is two points higher than the Geico frog.”

Scaplitt scrunched up his face. “That fucking thing is a frog? I always thought it was some kind of toad.”

“No, it’s a frog,” said Anderson. “And it’s got the highest Q score of any frog in the industry, so I guess that’s something.”

Scaplitt shook his head. “Yeah, I bet that makes its mother proud. So what’s the problem with Haysbert?”

“Well, some of the focus group remembered him from _Major League_ ,” explained Anderson. “And in that movie he’s into voodoo or some shit, talks about how his bat is frightened and rubs a dead chicken all over it. It was tough for some of the audience to make the transition from that to Omniscient and Omnipotent Creator of the Universe.”

“The other problem is everybody knows him from Allstate,” said Jordy. “And they keep expecting him to put his arm around Lucifer or Michael or whoever and say, ‘You’re in good hands, son.’ We were actually thinking of using that, but if we did, Allstate’s legal team would be crawling so far up our ass we’d be able to taste hair gel.”

Scaplitt sighed. “So can we get someone else? How about Morgan Freeman?”

The clouds of smoke had reduced Algerton’s visibility to about three feet. “Good choice, sir,” he said, throwing his voice in Scaplitt’s direction. “Freeman has a Q score of 20, which is actually three points _higher_ than God’s. Not quite in Oprah territory, but still.”

“So why don’t we get him?”

“We tried,” said Jordy.

“What happened?”

“Well, his exact response was, and I quote, ‘Are you out of your fucking mind?’”

“But he said it real authoritatively,” Anderson chimed in. “I mean, if you can imagine God saying, ‘Are you out of your fucking mind,’ I think that’s what it would have sounded like.”

“How about somebody else?”

Jordy exhaled. “Well, we didn’t want to go with a white guy, because God as white is so five minutes ago. We were thinking of Denzel Washington, but the role really doesn’t call for acting broody and killing people with your bare hands.”

“We even thought of having an Asian character play God,” said Anderson. “But the only one with enough chops to pull it off was Jackie Chan. There’s a plus in that he can do his own stunts, but we really didn’t think we needed to budget for a stunt double for God anyway.”

“Although 52% of the focus group was responsive to the idea of God having martial arts capabilities,” coughed Algerton.

“In fact, we spitballed that idea.” Jordy interjected. “People are really into that extreme fighting stuff, maybe do that on a celestial level. Say, Jesus versus Buddha in a cage match.”

Scaplitt thought for a moment. “I’d take Jesus.”

“For sure,” said Anderson. “My money’s on the Savior with the better abs. Buddha could definitely stand to do some crunches.”

Scaplitt stared down at his lap for a moment, then back up at them. “So we’re stuck with Haysbert. What’s the rest of the show look like?”

“The setting’s going to be in a town called Chesterville, about sixty miles west of Chicago,” said Jordy. “In fact, that’s going to be one of the running jokes: people are going to be watching the news, and the weather girl will be telling them that Chicago has two feet of snow and it’s fifteen degrees, and the people in Chesterville will look out the window, and it’ll be seventy-five without a cloud in the sky.”

“We were going to call it, ‘It’s Always Sunny in Chesterville,’ but, well…” Anderson said, leaving the sentence unfinished.

“So what are we talking about as far as the cast is concerned?” asked Scaplitt.

Jordy folded her hands in her lap and sat forward. “We’ve got the usual suspects for a sitcom. There’s the widowed neighbor next door who takes a fancy to God.”

“Hold it,” said Scaplitt. “How many times do Decker and Lucifer take a ride on the Bonetown Express in 5B and 6?”

Jordy and Anderson looked at each other. “Ummm…” Jordy finally mumbled. “Well, there is a scene in 6 where they kiss and you actually see some tongue.”

Scaplitt rolled his eyes. “That might make good spankbank material for our boy Brad here, but do we really want to suggest that God is getting more ass than Lucifer? That’d probably cost us the five Christians that are still watching.”

“Three,” Brad managed between gasps for air. “There are three Christians who still watch Netflix.”

“And then we’ve got the couple across the street,” continued Anderson. “They’ve never met a black person in their life, so they go to all these lengths to show they’re ‘hip.’ Guy hangs out at the barbershop, starts calling his wife his ‘ho.’ We have a whole episode where they finally learn from the Urban Dictionary that ‘street chocolate’ isn’t a candy box that somebody dropped on the sidewalk.”

“And, of course,” said Jordy. “We’ve got the cute little girl from next door.”

“Oh, right.” Scaplitt said. “You mean the one who’s nine years old going on twenty-five and says all these precocious things and by the third episode is so fucking annoying you want to hunt her down and stab her in the back of the head?”

Anderson beamed. “That’s the one.”

“We did find out something, though,” said Algernon, who by this time was using his pocket square as a makeshift gas mask. “Her Q score jumps from minus three to seven if we make her the daughter of the gay couple next door.”

“Male or female?”

“Male,” replied Jordy. “We’ve got an episode planned where God explains to them that all that stuff in the Old Testament about homosexuality is just so much chin music. Working title is ‘I’ve Mellowed.’”

“Although we did give some thought to it being a lesbian couple,” said Anderson. “Not the butch haircut and sensible shoes type. Make the show a little sexier, maybe a couple of really hot chicks, you know, what do they call them, lipstick lesbians.”

Scaplitt stared at the man. “Right. And have them living with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny, because those two don’t exist either.” Scaplitt reminded himself to have Accounting check Anderson’s hotel bills on his travel tab to see how many porn channels he’d rented.

Jordy picked up the ball. “Plus, we can have some of the _Lucifer_ cast stop in from time to time. We have another episode where Lucifer and Chloe come to visit, and God won’t let them sleep in the same room since they’re not married.”

Scaplitt shrugged. “So? The way you guys are doing it, they’re not fucking anyway, who cares where they sleep?” He took his feet off the desk and leaned forward. “So what are we calling this thing, anyway?”

Algerton had retreated to a corner of the room, and was curled into a fetal position while the smoke cloud hovered over him. “’The Big Guy’ tested out at 42% approval, but half the respondents thought it was a cartoon,” he said. “‘I’ll be Watching You,’ with that Police song as the theme, tested out at 44%, but the Creep Factor –”

“The Creep Factor?”

“Yes, we put that in after Netflix did that series about the guy who stalked women. Anyway, the Creep Factor for that title was a solid 3.8, and you don’t want to go above 3.0. Unless you can make money, of course. But the one that scored the best, at 63%, was ‘God Help Us.’”

Scaplitt leaned back in chair and sighed wearily. “Okay, I’m giving the green light. Do a pilot and let’s see where we are.”

He stood up and shook hands with Anderson, Zuchowski, and Algerton, the latter of whom had sheets of tears coursing down his cheeks. He sat back down as they left and stared at the ceiling. _God Help Us_ , indeed, he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this was a fun ride. May do some more, depending on my mood. Hope you enjoyed reading it.   
>  I enjoyed writing it. Comments welcome.

**Author's Note:**

> So you're the focus group. Would you watch a show called Dr. Linda? How about a game show with Maze? Want to bring back Pierce for another go-around with Decker, or did you have enough of that for three lifetimes? How about a show with Daniel in his Hell loop, constantly going to the refrigerator and finding that Lucifer has stolen his pudding? Does Dr. Phil really have bigger tits than Linda? Enquiring minds want to know.


End file.
